Counterpoint

Chapter 27

Jefferson

   I watch him as he flips through the pages of a novel that he found in my library. His eyes scan over the words with such speed that I find it difficult to comprehend how he is gaining anything intelligible from his rapid scanning. Perhaps he has me fooled and he isn't even reading, or perhaps he is just as extraordinary as I always thought he was. His fingers hold onto the edges of the cover tightly, almost as if he were holding onto something truly precious. I lean my cheek onto my knuckles as I watch him continue to read, sinking further and further into the settee as his body continues to relax. 

   My computer remains forgotten as I simply indulge myself in watching him. I know that I should try and cut down on this habit of observing him in his natural state, but it is so difficult now for me to fight against the temptation. There seems to be this sudden shift on the ground beneath me, as if the axis of my world has been tilted in a different direction. My reality being tilted in such a way that no matter how hard I try I keep falling into his path. I continue to be pulled into his gravity. 

   He doesn't share in my affections, that particular truth has made itself painfully evident. He did not experience the same emotional discovery as I. The more I think about it the more I begin to feel ridiculous for watching him the way I do. He doesn't notice as I look away from him and find my eyes drifting to the section of the bookshelf that I had gifted to Martha when she had graced these walls with her presence. My eyes begin to water slightly as the memories of her begin to resurface, but they suddenly vanish back underneath the veil of my mind as the sound of a book closing greets the silent air. 

   Our eyes meet and for the first time today he holds my gaze. My chest tightens slightly as I find myself drowning in the colors of his iris. I can't bring myself to look away from them now that he is allowing me to stare at them openly. His eyes don't glance away or shift in any measurable way. If I didn't know any better I would allow myself to believe that he is studying me.  His brows furrow slightly as he continues to stare, his eyes remaining fixated on mine as he sets his novel aside. 

   "Is there something bothering you Alexander?"

   "I'm just thinking." He murmurs, suddenly breaking the spell and averting his gaze. I try to conceal my disappointment as I school my expression and lean back in my chair. 

   "About?" 

   He remains silent for several seconds as he looks out the window beside him. I stare at his profile and I find myself beginning to notice the most minute of details about this man. The way that he interlaces his fingers when he thinks deeply about something, or the way that he straightens his posture when he finally makes up his mind. There are so many details that I hadn't noticed about him until this very moment. I feel almost guilty for not paying close enough attention until now. 

   "Why did you bring me here?"

   "To my library?" I ask confusedly.

   "No," He looks at me head on. "Why did you invite me to come and stay with you? There was no reason for you of all people to take me in, yet you did it anyway. I want to know why."

   "Would you have preferred if I had just left you in that gas station after hearing about your situation?" I ask in challenge. "If our roles were reversed would you have done the same, or would you have left me to my own devices?" His eyes narrow slightly as he struggles to answer my questions. I can tell from his expression that he wasn't expecting me to launch any questions his way, this was meant to be a one-sided assault and I have thwarted his plan. "I'm interested to hear how you will choose to respond to your own questions."